Chapter 13 Maximus #3
“Holy freaking phoenix tails, goblin toes, and everything else! Max! Did you just see that? A dragon! A real, actual dragon! And a baby one! It looked right at us! It smiled at us!” His hands fluttered wildly, nearly smacking me in the face.
“This is—this is the most incredible thing I’ve ever—I can’t believe—”
His eyes were wide, pupils dilated with wonder, cheeks flushed pink from the wind and excitement. He clutched at my shoulders, shaking me slightly.
“I can’t wait to tell Cody about this! He’ll never believe me! I’ll have to draw it for him—though I’ll never get the colors right. Those scales! Like living fire! And the way it moved—like it owned the sky!”
He was vibrating against me, his entire body humming with energy. His face glowed with a joy so pure it radiated through my soul.
“Thank you,” he said on a heavy breath, one of his hands squeezing the nape of my neck. “Thank you for this. For making me come out here. For showing me—” He gestured wildly at the endless sky around us. “All of this. I never knew… I never imagined…”
I watched his lips form words that washed over me like waves, barely registering their meaning. All I could focus on was the light in his eyes, the curve of his smile, the way the morning sun caught in his copper hair, the galaxy of freckles dancing mere inches from my face.
My hands moved of their own accord, reaching up to frame his face. His skin was cool from the wind, soft beneath my fingers. His words faltered, trailing into silence as our eyes locked.
The air between us crackled with possibility.
I leaned forward, drawn by something stronger than gravity, and pressed my lips to his.
Kaspar’s mouth opened with a soft little gasp of surprise, and he fell utterly still against me.
For one heart-stopping moment, I feared I’d misread everything, that I’d shattered whatever delicate thing had been growing between us.
But then his lips softened, melting against mine with a quiet sigh that I felt more than heard.
His hand gripped my shoulder and slid upward to my neck. His fingers threaded through my hair, cradling the back of my head with unexpected tenderness.
I pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face. His eyes remained closed, lips still slightly parted, the ghost of our kiss lingering there. When his lashes finally fluttered open, his gaze was dazed, pupils wide and dark against the green of his irises.
“I—” he began, then stopped, a flush spreading across his freckled cheeks. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I was hoping you’d do that.”
A smile tugged at my mouth. “I was hoping I’d do that too.”
The wind caught his hair, sending it dancing around his face. I reached up to tuck a strand behind his ear, letting my fingers trail along the curve of his jaw.
“Do it again,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rushing air. His eyes held mine, vulnerable yet certain.
This time, when our lips met, there was no hesitation.
Kaspar’s mouth opened, eager and warm. His tongue tentatively traced the seam of my lips before sliding against mine, the contact sending electric currents racing down my spine.
The kiss deepened, transforming from tentative exploration to something hungry and alive.
The taste of him flooded my senses as our tongues danced together, learning each other’s rhythms.
His hands tightened in my hair, fingers tangling in the strands, tugging just enough to send sparks of pleasure-pain across my scalp as he pulled me closer, as if he could eliminate the last molecules of air between us.
My tongue swept across the roof of his mouth, drawing a shuddering gasp from him that I swallowed eagerly, the vibration of it traveling through my body like lightning.
The wet heat of his mouth against mine, the slide of our tongues together, the occasional gentle clash of teeth as our hunger overrode finesse—it was intoxicating, all-consuming, perfect.
We swayed gently at the end of our tether, our spinning only contributing further to the dizziness of the moment.
The world became a kaleidoscope of sensation—the cold bite of wind against my skin contrasting with the heat of Kaspar’s body pressed against mine; the vastness of the open sky surrounding us while we remained locked in our own intimate universe.
One of my hands slid to the small of his back while the other cupped his cheek, thumb stroking across his constellation of freckles. His legs tightened around my waist, his entire body melding against mine as if it belonged there.
When we finally broke apart, his breath mingled with my own, quick and shallow. His forehead came to rest against mine. His eyes remained closed, light lashes fanned against his cheeks, and his lips swollen and pink. A smile—small and private—curved his mouth.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you,” I confessed, the words escaping before I could reconsider them.
His eyes opened then, meeting mine with startling intensity. “When you found your thieving stowaway?” A teasing note entered his voice.
“Especially then,” I admitted, feeling heat rise to my face. “You were so defiant, standing there in the cargo hold. Terrified, but refusing to show it.” My thumb traced the curve of his lower lip. “I wanted to know what that courage tasted like.”
His breath caught, and for a moment he seemed at a loss for words—a rare occurrence for Kaspar. Then he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth, so gentle it was barely there.
“And?” he asked softly. “What does it taste like?”
I pretended to consider, tilting my head. “Like sunrise,” I finally said. “And dragons. And freedom.”
He laughed then, the sound bright and clear, carrying across the open sky. His head tipped back, exposing the elegant line of his throat, joy written across every feature. He looked like something from another world—too beautiful to be real.
When his laughter subsided, his expression softened into something more serious. His hands framed my face, thumbs tracing my cheekbones with a reverence that made my chest ache.
“I never expected any of this,” he said quietly. “When I snuck onto The Black Wraith, I was just trying to survive. I never thought I’d find…” He paused, searching for words. “This. You.” His fingers tightened slightly against my skin.
The rawness to his voice had something shifting in my chest, letting in light where there had only been shadow.
Yet a horrible slither of my consciousness tried to ruin the moment—screaming at me that Kas was leaving me soon, that this was a terrible idea, that we’d be discovered and he’d be hurt.
“Hey.” His eyes widened. “Don’t do that. Don’t go dark on me.”
“Kaspar,” I whispered, his name a prayer on my lips. I wanted to tell him everything—how he’d brought color back into a world that had faded to gray, how the thought of him leaving the ship made it hard to breathe. But the words tangled in my throat, too big and unwieldy to release.
Instead, I kissed him again, pouring everything I couldn’t say into the press of my lips against his. His mouth opened to mine, understanding in the way he responded—gentle at first, then with increasing fervor, as if he too had things to say.
The kiss deepened, grew desperate. His fingers dug into my shoulders, and my hands clutched at his waist. The tether swung us in lazy circles, the world spinning around us as we remained locked together.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Kaspar rested his forehead against mine. His eyes remained closed, and a single tear traced down his face, catching the light like a diamond.
I brushed the tear away with my thumb. “What’s wrong?”
Kas shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just ignore it. No darkness, remember? Not right now.”
I tightened my arms around him, pulling him closer until I could feel his heartbeat against my chest.
“We should probably go back up,” I said eventually, though everything in me rebelled against the idea.
Kaspar pulled back, a playful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Must we? I rather like it down here.” His fingers traced patterns on the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “Just you and me and the sky.”
I laughed, the sound carrying away on the wind. “As tempting as that is, the crew will be waking soon. And I’m not sure I want to explain to Captain Van Jagger why his new recruit and first mate are dangling behind his ship, glued to each other.”
Kaspar sighed dramatically.
“There will be other mornings,” I promised, though my heart screamed, not nearly enough. I brushed my lips against his once more. “Other flights.”
His smile then—slow and sweet and full of promise—made my heart stutter in my chest. “I’ll hold you to that, Maximus.”
“I can’t guarantee any more dragons, though.”
“That’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re more than enough.”